


Snow Globes

by suncityblues



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M, murdoc is the worst though, plastic beach, xpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suncityblues/pseuds/suncityblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything looks so small from where he is standing now."</p><p>xpost from ff.net from the plastic beach days (2010?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Globes

**Author's Note:**

> This is from 2D's pov so I hope it's not too dizzy!

Everything looks so small from where he is standing now.

The way all the garbage, the plastic bottles and scrap metal and things that maybe were loved once become one big hunk of indistinguishable pink nothingness.

And people always talk about how great it is. To become one with something else, someone else, to be an Us instead of a Me or a You or a That Guy Over There, but it doesn't work that way. It never, ever works that way.

There is a trade off.

Instead of being alone forever you become indistinct. Instead of one tin can, a whole beach of them. Walked on. Not noticed. Not thought about. Not important.

And maybe that's why he can't blame Murdoc for being such a dick to him all the time.

Because Murdoc wouldn't be Murdoc if he was someone else. If he wasn't such a lonely tin can all the time.

And sure, there is a better way to explain that but he doesn't know how. He doesn't mind, though, not being able to put the greater intricacies of almost half a lifetime's acquaintance into a few words. That's not what words were made for, that's music's job.

Besides, his head hurts. All the time. 

Sometimes, times like this for instance, he thinks that he might be a little bit in love with the slimy green bastard. Like the way he knows there is a world inside this world, where the most interesting things are kept, or the way he knows Pelican and Seagull are really good friends even though they don't always show it.

He just knows.

And there isn't much more to say about that, even though he'd like to. Even though he knows Murdoc could never love him, or anyone back. Could never even facilitate that kind of emotion, if it was directed outward. 2D thinks that they are a lot alike in that regard. That they both spend so much time in their own little universes, separate from others, that reality seems far-off and bothersome. Pain pills, demon deals, whatever. 

That they are disconnected together, two life boats floating out to sea with nowhere to go but away, is nice, he thinks.

And maybe Murdoc's little imaginary world is a bit more painful than his. Because it's based out of the real world and just took a few leaps and bounds here and there. Maybe Murdoc never noticed when things started to derail. That would certainly explain the kidnapping thing. And Cyborg Noodle and a whole host of other odd happenings around Plastic Beach.

But it started a long while before that.

Right now 2D is perched on the edge of the balcony watching the ground below. Murdoc is sitting in a dilapidated lawn chair smoking a cigarette and fiddling with the cap of a beer bottle, one of the ones with trivia on it. 

22,700 bees to make a jar of honey. 

This is the first time in a while he's managed to leave his room to do something besides record. He missed the sun and fresh air and not being whale-watched. And, besides, his room was beginning to smell a bit ripe, with no openable windows.

They are promptly ignoring each other until Murdoc lobs an empty glass bottle at 2D. It only hurts a little when it connects with his head.

"Awlright then," Murdoc says with a grunt to punctuate it and 2D knows what he means.

It's almost always the same thing.

"What, choo wanna go now?" he mumbles and his voice sounds muffled and scratchy and whinier than usual.

Murdoc does his grunt-nod and doesn't bother properly responding as he gracelessly drags 2D down the stairs to the lift. Before the doors even shut Murdoc's hands are on his hips and they are tugging. Pulling 2D closer and goading him into willingness. It doesn't take much.

He's used to it, used to this, to Murdoc and Murdoc's games. To meaningless sex and making out in the lift.

All of it had happened before, and would happen again, and how unfair was it that it could mean to little to Murdoc and so much to him?

Somewhere someone is saying, "that's life." 

Maybe it was him, he's not sure, he's light headed.

He should remind that person to be more optimistic, whoever they are, he tells himself because he knows Murdoc's not listening anyway, too busy sucking and nibbling on the bone between his chest and his neck.

And 2D watches vaguely amused and oddly distant as all the buttons on the panel except the one they want are lighted from Murdoc's half-scrambled ministrations. It doesn't matter, it gives them more time between the study and his bedroom (never Murdoc's).

Their lips are meeting again and again and again. It has been years since what they are doing began, and it's always different, always the same. It stretches out like road in front and behind them, identical unless examined. Like never ending cotton white sheets, stained and sullied. Misused and mistreated and mistaken for anything besides love.

2D vaguely remembers the half-walk-half-crawl from the lift to his room. Murdoc tripping on a power cord by the bed and swearing savagely. Making him cover up the eyes of the taxidermic three-legged dog before yanking off his trousers.

And then primal urges or muscle memory or something takes over. And it is good and it feels good and right and holy. Like maybe they are puzzle pieces that fit for just a moment and then suddenly don't work a moment later.

Murdoc never stays long after the sex. He is a chronic non-cuddler.

Once or twice he has stayed, nodded off even, which made 2D's heart hurt with something he had no name for but it never lasts.

Because their world is like one of those towns in a snow globe. You can shake it and shake it as much as you want but it's not going anywhere and in the end nothing will change.

Nothing ever changes.


End file.
